For the first time, the idea of New Year's resolutions bores me. I've carried them out for thirty-something years, and if there are any self-improvement projects outstanding, I'm willing to accept that this is as good as I get. This cyclical reinventing is tiring me out.
This year, I'm going to own what I already have.
I'm going to own having four kids; no more whispering Three was actually the perfect number! to onlookers. I'm going to own being a family physician at the refugee clinic. No teasing myself with ads for R3 residency positions this year, and no peeking at the eye-popping figures some of my medical school classmates bring in.
Also to be owned in 2014: this weathered house on stilts on the cliffs of Deep Cove, including wobbly walkway pavers and yellowing bathroom linoleum; a body that's borne four kids and carries me around without complaint, ever; a face with ever-darkening under eye smudges that still laughs every day with kids and patients.
Let's include living in Vancouver, vibrant and gorgeous, despite property costs that make me sweat when I see what proportion of the mortgage payments went to interest. And friends, whom I don't keep up with enough - I'm going to own them, too. And family: my grandparents in their little New Westminster condo, my sisters who got the good hair in the family, in-laws and nieces - they're mine for life, and I'm going to own them.
All the unfortunate things I will do in 2014? They're mine. Any irritability, ridiculously late email replies, or impatience when you question immunization - I take responsibility. Any good ideas, generosity, incredible diagnoses? Also mine.
So yeah. Even without resolutions, I think I've got a lot to work with. Funny how even better than dreaming is recognizing the parts of your life that you'd dream for if they weren't already yours.
Happy 2014. Own it.